A Sudden Loathe For South Africa Otlametse Letsholo   © Copyright 2018 by Otlametse Letsholo

My head shot up with my eyes sharply trained on him like a laser beam, of course feeling pity for the poor guy. “like any voyage there are bound to be some causalities and in this instance your unfortunate predicament adds to the thrill of profound stories we are to narrate back home. Calm down, you are going through a whirlwind of emotional turmoil” That was me in my sarcastic rant.

“Rex this is no longer funny, you are solely responsible for what happened to Moses, had you not insisted on taking him for a walk we wouldn’t be here. Instead of trying to derive humour out of this you should render an apology to all of us” Dolly chipped in with a commanding tone.

I remained mum, not daring to speak another word. I figured my attempt at humour had failed miserably as nods of heads were clearly in favour of Dolly’s assertion. Probably they were right, to a certain degree.

“I need not to repeat myself, if you still want me in your next expedition, South Africa should be scraped off the bucket list” Moses reaffirmed his resolve, this time trying to maintain composure.

*****

It was in 2004 at Ithuteng Community Junior Secondary School, Mochudi, Botswana where as a form 1 student that I was drawn in the same class as Botshelo Dithole and Moses Kgaswane. I cannot explain how we managed to be friends. Botshelo was a quieter guy, liked by teachers and loved by the girls. Many still argue that he resembles the famous movie star Vin Diesel. Of course his handsome frame is always imposing wherever he goes.

Moses too was relatively quiet, we preferred to address him with his surname, Kgaswane. I think that was largely influenced by his old man like behavior. He lacked that youthful exuberance but had his moments of laughter occasionally. I was the brightest of the pack, one of the popular kids, outspoken yet a headache to most teachers and a nightmare to some students. Most labelled me a ring leader of wayward behavior in my class. The nickname Rex was more popular than my official name, Otlametse Letsholo and has stuck to this day.

There was one thing that could have brought us together; abject poverty. We related well as our strive was identical, all the three of us grew up without electricity at our homes, we are also staunch supporters of Mochudi Centre Chiefs. I and Botshelo played for our school’s soccer team. That is where we got to befriend Obakeng “Mark Bachelor” Shalako and Gobona “Manucho” Komane.

Our friendship survived throughout the years, the five of us always hang around Mochudi together during the festive season to wind down our sorrows. It was only last year (2017) that we agreed to explore the world as there is no part of Mochudi that we haven’t experienced, from pork barbecue sessions at the famous B6 Pub, to drinking sprees at the ever crowded Kwaa Mothakga drinking hole and not forgetting the soccer tourneys at Amazulu Grounds.

We earmarked the 24^th and 25^th December 2017 as our nights out, and our destination was Potchefstroom, South Africa. We chose the venue primarily for three reasons; we longed for a taste of foreign land and Potch as known by its residents, is around 350km stretch from Mochudi making it accessible and affordable, it also has a host of youth friendly recreational facilities and thirdly it is an academic capital making its biggest populace millennials under 30 which gave us an impression of a wild city.

The undisputable yet not widely documented truth is that where there is a woman there is a touch of elegance and order. We reasoned amongst ourselves that an all-boys trip may not be a good idea. Our search brought three girls; Badiri Ratladi, Katlego Seikanelo and Dolly Segobye. Badiri and Dolly were in the same class with me, Botshelo and Kgaswane while Katlego was the only one who wasn’t an Ithuteng alumni which in a sense made our trip an Ithuteng Class of 2006 reunion in miniature.

Badiri, whose charcoal coloured skin tone embodies African beauty in its purest form, is a devout Christian whose presence was akin to that of Christ and his disciples on a boat. We resorted to her for divine intervention. I think I like her, maybe that could explain why I can’t pick her flaws if there are any, and she is the only girl that has the power to call me to order. I always tease her that her adornments far outsmart that of the biblical Queen of Sheba.

Dolly’s round marble eyes and enormous behinds that she tightly hugged with her trouser made her an eyesight to behold during our school days. She may have been the fantasy of every male figure in the school, of course excluding myself. It seems from junior school she had caught the eye of my fellow friend, Botshelo. She was going on this trip by virtue of being Botshelo’s significant other. They make an adorable couple; the classical Romeo and Juliet.

The only closed book to me was Katlego, she had been suggested by one of the boys. We picked her up on the day of our departure in the capital, Gaborone on our way to the Pioneer Gate Border. I was told she was restless the night before as it was her first taste of a trip abroad. The ecstasy made her take one too many drinks as a deterrent to falling asleep. We picked her up already wasted. She appeared to be very loud, once she sobered up a contrasting personality emerged; well behaved and approachable.

THE SOUTH AFRICAN EXPERIENCE

We booked our lodging in advance at Melrose Place Guestrooms in Wilgen Street. It’s a tranquil self-catering villa in a posh suburb. Although I have never met her, even during our stay in Potch, the manager of our lodging place, Wilma de Beer was a hospitable host, she always heeded our requests whenever we sought her attention. She consistently sent a lady called Danietta to attend to our concerns and would expediently attend to our pleas then give us some space while minding her cigarette.

Our chauffeur was Botshelo; not your Lewis Hamilton kind of driver. He would rather get you arrive late and safely than make you say your final goodbyes just in case the trip comes to a premature end due to accidents resulting from over speeding. Seven of us made it to Potch with the only exception being Manucho courtesy of his failure to renew his passport on time. On the night of arrival nothing untoward occurred, we did our shopping at Riverwalk Mall opposite the majestic Mooirivier Mall which the beautiful Mooi River passes beneath, rivalling the most spectacular shrine as captured in Dan Brown’s Inferno, the Turkish Hagia Sophia.

From the shopping basket there was food and a lot of alcohol, even though those who imbibed were three being me, Bachelor and the new girl Katlego. Our first night was specifically set aside for barbecue at our lodging. The girls were busy with the pap while the boys prepared beef on the outdoor braaistand. Meals were served outdoors; Badiri left a bit earlier to her room insisting she had to watch Joyous Celebration on TV, then followed by the others spare for me and Bachelor as we downed our stack of beer and stole some meat reserved for breakfast.

On the day of Christmas after the girls had served breakfast we got the first hint of how the day will turn out to be. “ladies and gentlemen who is in possession of the remote control for the gate?” Bachelor quizzed, “Rex has the key, he kept it the whole of yesterday as he referred to himself as the head of delegation”, Badiri intervened with the reply. That was when it dawned on me that we may be in for a long day ahead, I had forgotten the remote on top of the braai stand as I dragged myself to bed the previous night. I rushed to the stand and the remote was not there unfortunately.

A fully fledged search for the remote was now launched, everyone searched the whole apartment, our hunt was fruitless. The conclusion agreed to was the suspicion that the guard while patrolling in the night picked it for whatever convenience it may accord him and was nowhere to be found as he had already knocked off and replaced by another guard. The guard was ungrateful given that we had served him every meal we had. With the new guard’s generosity, we managed to reach the manager of Melrose Place who advised that she will register Kgaswane’s roaming number into the system then forwarded us a number that when dialed the gate would open automatically.

With our self-imposed confinement now over, it was all systems go, we went out to explore the city. Our primary destination was Potchefstroom Dam. We missed the road along the way and found ourselves heading out of the city towards Boskop Dam. The road which I believe is the R501 was elevated and to our west we could see Potchefstroom dam clearly; not bigger than Gaborone Dam but beautifully laid out, the shore was fully covered by neatly trimmed green grass with fun lovers roaming about, the blue waters were navigated by speedboats. It was an eye catching sight, we had no choice but to go back and look for the road that lead us to this little paradise.

We left the dam towards the lunch hour as the girls wanted to go and prepare Christmas buffet for lunch. Girls run the world and we had no other choice but to heed their request. When we got to our apartment I headed to my bed and within minutes I already felt uneasy and wanted to go out and make the most of the little time we had in Potch. I went to Bachelor’s room to persuade him to join me for a walk to a nearby park. “Sir let’s take a walk to a nearby park on Luthuli Road,’’ I demanded as I dragged his foot from the bed. “please don’t disturb my power nap, let’s have lunch then go out as a group, I want to rest a bit,” he fired back. I knew I had to dig deep to convince him otherwise, I took his cap as I left the room with the hope that he will follow me. Unfortunately, I was all alone.

I knew the dangers posed by maneuvering South African streets alone. Most of my countrymen have the conception that South Africa is infested with criminals and the stereotype advised me not be foolhardy and dart out on my own. I went to Kgaswane’s room with the same request of taking a walk together, I had to look to him after Bachelor’s resistance because either way, his phone was of paramount importance as it served as the remote for the gate to our apartment. He didn’t give me much of a headache and off we went.

Along the way we agreed to use shortcuts and maze our way through the suburbs. Deviating from clear pathways was our main undoing. In these hidden corners which we couldn’t explain where we were, there was a railway line to cross. Before we crossed we were fascinated by the heap of soil along the railway and on top of the heap was some rails which could be leftovers during construction. We saw these rails as an ideal photo booth since the streets of Potch will appear on the background. Little did we know our camera clicking moments were giving us away to thugs on the nearby trees.

Once we exhausted all the poses of today’s selfie generation we continued with our mission to head to the park, the path we took had a small bush along the railway line. When we were about to pass the bush into the nearby suburbs, about seven men wielding machetes emerged from the other side of the bush charging at full speed. We did not need to play dice, we had only one option; to flee to safety. The speed at which our assailants were approaching one could tell they wanted to engulf us before we made it out of the trees. I engaged on turbo charge and made it out of the trees in no time. The fear that gripped Kgaswane made him develop heavy feet and they tripped him before he made any headway, one guy placed the machete on his neck while the others searched him.

I want to believe that there are some talents which remain repressed and only come to the fore in the midst of tragedy. The speed at which I ran on that moment was without doubt a Usain Bolt record breaker, and if that spectacular feat was an everyday occurrence I would by now be counted amongst the world’s greats. I managed to outrun the whole pack and stood a safe distance away watching the whole ordeal as my friend came face to face with a near death encounter. They took his wallet, shoes and phone then disappeared into the bushes again. Our trip to the park came to a premature end.

My friend dusted himself up, approached me barefooted, visibly shaken and panting. “my brother I am grateful that my life is still intact, those items can be recovered,” he tried to assure me that all is well. “The guys at the lodge will be mad at us, specifically Badiri, she has been more of a mother figure,” I tried to show him the enormity of our situation. “my brother our demise is compounded by the fact that my phone was a remote control for the gate, so they are trapped inside and us outside,” he dovetailed my point. The discussion by now had brought a bit of calm amidst the storm that hit us. It dawned on me that even our poses came to nil as the phone with the photos is now no more.

We found a safer way back to the lodge. Like we predicted, all our peers at the lodge were in disbelief while Badiri was clearly angry. We expertly jumped over the wall which had electric fence to join our mates. Kgaswane went straight to bed, he was still in shock, he didn’t even have the lunch meal. At first we had decided against informing the police but reneged on the thought that our attackers would commit more crimes disguising as Kgaswane since his identity card and drivers license were in the wallet. We used the guard’s phone to ask the manager to open the gate for us. As per the norm Danietta showed up, this time she looked infuriated which was quite understandable.

At the police station we were attended by a friendly Afrikaans officer. We made our case clear, we are not opening a docket but simply informing the police about Mr. Kgaswane’s missing documents. The officer opened the case and closed it instantly. He then lectured us on the extent of crime in Potch and advised us on how to keep safe. We were then joined by a female officer who wanted to know more about Botswana. We then drew distinctions between our home country and theirs. Then they released us to go back to the lodge. Our plans were halted for that Christmas night; we had planned to attend a party we were invited by some girl while doing shopping on the 24^th but her number was gone with Kgaswane’s phone.

When we got to the lodge we passed the night having drinks and chats by the braai stand while waiting for the morning of the 26^th to head back to motherland when Kgaswane fired, “on our next escapade if our compass directs us to South Africa I will have the pleasure of remaining behind in my home country of Botswana” remarked a visibly shaken Moses who couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he just lost his valuables a few moments ago. It was without any iota of doubt that his mood had switched from that of an adventurous traveler to that of a man in distress.

My head shot up with my eyes sharply trained on him like a laser beam, of course feeling pity for the poor guy. “like any voyage there are bound to be some causalities and in this instance your unfortunate predicament adds to the thrill of profound stories we are to narrate back home. Calm down, you are going through a whirlwind of emotional turmoil” That was me in my sarcastic rant.

“Rex this is no longer funny, you are solely responsible for what happened to Moses, had you not insisted on taking him for a walk we wouldn’t be here. Instead of trying to derive humour out of this you should render an apology to all of us” Dolly chipped in with a commanding tone. I remained mum, not daring to speak another word. I figured my attempt at humour had failed miserably as nods of heads were clearly in favour of Dolly’s assertion. Probably they were right, to a certain degree.

“I need not repeat myself, if you still want me in your next expedition South Africa should be scraped off the bucket list,” Moses reaffirmed his resolve, this time trying to maintain composure. “you guys may pin the blame on me for leaving you guys behind, but what transpired wasn’t how I would have wanted it to be, shit happens!” I tried to absolve myself. “but why couldn’t you exercise patience? You knew we were supposed to go out immediately after our afternoon meal, you ruined the whole thing” Bachelor punched holes on my defense. “Rex is bad influence; I’m done with South Africa!” exclaimed Kgaswane as he closed the issue and headed to his room.

When I got to my room to call it a day, I found Botshelo and Dolly suspiciously quiet as they washed the dishes. My room was used as our kitchen as well. I thought there was tension between our adorable couple. “what’s haunting you guys?” I broke the silence. “we’ve been reflecting on what happened earlier and wondered what we were going to say back home had Kgaswane lost his life,” Botshelo responded. I didn’t even say a word; it sank on me that I nearly witnessed something very catastrophic. That was going to haunt me till the end of time.

The following morning, we packed, checked out and embarked on the journey back home. On hindsight, one will appreciate the presence of women within our midst; despite our friend losing his key documents, the passport was safe. The girls had grouped all our travelling documents in one place. The misfortune though dealt a heavy blow to our plans; on our itinerary was the North West University Botanical Garden, the Oak Avenue and night clubs which remain a pipe dream to this day.

I wouldn’t say Potchefstroom is not the safest place to visit. We simply invited trouble by using obscure corners. If you are a party lover and a socialite, then this town with beautiful landmarks is definitely cut for you. Crime is everywhere; our excitement did not submit to reason and we paid a heavy price. As for my friend’s sudden disdain for South Africa-I dismissed it at first but fast forward to today he does not want anything to do with the land of Mandela. This year’s trip is as a result slated for Namibia come festive season.

I was born in the village of Mochudi 28 years ago. I have been more of traveler since childhood and this played a huge role in my conceptualization of the world. I spent my early childhood in Marokolwane Farms on the outskirts of Mochudi where I was under the tender care of my wonderful grandmother and my late grandfather (MHSRP). At the time when I had to start my schooling I had no choice but to relocate and join my mother in a village called Kanye over a hundred kilometers away.

I came back to Mochudi then after a couple of years went to Gaborone then back to my hometown of Mochudi where I currently resides. I have a keen interest in writing professionally. Locally there are minimal platforms where one can nurture literary skills and the problem is even compounded by lack of reading culture by kinsmen.